InsaneJournal

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Entry tags:	fannish silliness, stargate

Rodney's Adventures in Wonderland - Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2: The Pool of Tears

'Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Rodney (he was so much surprised, that for the moment he quite forgot how to speak good English); 'now I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!' (for when he looked down at his feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off). 'Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I'm sure I shan't be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you: you must manage the best way you can;--but I must be kind to them,' thought Rodney, 'or perhaps they won't walk the way I want to go! Let me see: I'll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.'

And he went on planning to himself how he would manage it. 'They must go by the carrier,' he thought; 'and how funny it'll seem, sending presents to one's own feet! And how odd the directions will look!

    RODNEY'S RIGHT FOOT, ESQ.
        HEARTHRUG,
            NEAR THE FENDER,
                (WITH RODNEY'S LOVE).

Oh dear, what nonsense I'm talking!'

Just then his head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact he was now more than nine feet high, and he at once took up the little golden key and hurried off to the garden door.

Poor Rodney! It was as much as he could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever: he sat down and began to cry again.

'You ought to be ashamed of yourself,' said Rodney, 'a great scientist like you,' (he might well say this), 'to go on crying in this way! Stop this moment, I tell you!' But he went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round him, about four inches deep and reaching half down the hall.

After a time he heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and he hastily dried his eyes to see what was coming. It was the fluffy-haired Major returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand and a large alien device in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself as she came, 'Oh! the General, the General! Oh! won't he be savage if I've kept him waiting!' Rodney felt so desperate that he was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Major came near him, he began, in a low, timid voice, 'If you please, sir--' The Major started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the alien device, and skurried away into the darkness as hard as she could go.

Rodney took up the alien device and gloves, and went on talking: 'Dear, dear! How queer everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah, THAT'S the great puzzle!' And he began thinking over all the scientists he knew of to see if he could have been changed for any of them.

'I'm sure I'm not Marie Curie,' he said, 'for her hair goes in such long ringlets, and mine doesn't go in ringlets at all; and I'm sure I can't be Isaac Newton, for I know astrology is nonsense, and he, oh! he knows such a deal of rubbish! Besides, HE'S he, and I'm I, and--oh dear, how puzzling it all is! I'll try if I know all the things I used to know. Let me see: e equals m c squared, and V equals R times I, and p is prime if it is a positive integer greater than 1 and is divisible by no other positive integers other than 1 and--oh dear! I shall never get to Fermat's last theorem at that rate! However, that doesn't signify: let's try Fourier. If e equals 1 plus 1 over !1 plus 1 over 2! plus 1 over 3! plus 1 over 4! and assume e equals p over q where both p and q are negative integers - no, THAT'S all wrong, I'm certain! I must have been changed for Isaac Newton! I'll try and say pi until the hundredth decimal place.' Rodney put hands on his lap as if he were saying lessons, and began to repeat it, but his voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the numbers did not come the same as they used to do:-- 'Three point two four three F six A eight eight eight five A three zero eight D thirty-one thirty-one nine ...'

'I'm sure those are not the right numbers,' said poor Rodney, and his eyes filled with tears again as he went on, 'I must be Isaac Newton after all, and I shall have to go and live in that poky little house in Oxford, and have next to no computers to play with, and oh! ever so much tea to drink and astrology to learn! No, I've made up my mind about it; if I'm Isaac Newton, I'll stay down here! It'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying "Come up again, dear!" I shall only look up and say "Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down here till I'm somebody else"--but, oh dear!' cried Rodney, with a sudden burst of tears, 'I do wish they WOULD put their heads down! I am so VERY tired of being all alone here!'

As he said this he looked down at his hands, and was surprised to see that he had put on one of the Major's little white kid gloves while he was talking. 'How CAN I have done that?' he thought. 'I must be growing small again.' He got up and went to the table to measure himself by it, and found that, as nearly as he could guess, he was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: he soon found out that the cause of this was the alien device he was holding, and he dropped it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether.

'That WAS a narrow escape!' said Rodney, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find himself still in existence; 'and now for the garden!' and he ran with all speed back to the little door: but, alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before, 'and things are worse than ever,' thought the poor scientist, 'for I never was so small as this before, never! And I declare it's too bad, that it is!'

As he said these words his foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! he was up to his chin in salt water. His first idea was that he had somehow fallen into the sea, 'and in that case I can go back by air,' he said to himself. (Rodney had been to the seaside once in his life, and had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go to on either coast of the US you find a lot of surfers risking drowning, sunbathers courting skin cancer, then stores selling ice cream and candy, and behind them the highway to the airport.) However, he soon made out that he was in the pool of tears which he had wept when he was nine feet high.

'I wish I hadn't cried so much!' said Rodney, as he swam about, trying to find his way out. 'I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! That WILL be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer to-day.'(This was very likely true.)

Just then he heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and he swam nearer to make out what it was: at first he thought it must be an American or a hippopotamus, but then he remembered how small he was now, and he soon made out that it was only a Scotsman that had slipped in like himself.

'Would it be of any use, now,' thought Rodney, 'to speak to this Scotsman? Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very likely it can talk: at any rate, there's no harm in trying.' So he began: 'O Scotsman, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about here, O Scotsman!' (Rodney thought this must be the right way of speaking to a Scotsman: he had never done such a thing before, but he remembered having seen in his sister's book of poetry, 'Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie, O, what panic's in thy breastie!') The Scotsman looked at him rather inquisitively, and seemed to him to wink with one of his little eyes, but he said nothing.

'Perhaps he doesn't understand English,' thought Rodney; 'I daresay it's a Gaelic mouse, come over with Montgomery Scott.' (For, with all his knowledge of physics, Rodney had no very clear notion of history outside sci-fi films.) So he began again: 'Where are the dilithium crystals?' which was the first sentence in his Star Trek handbook. The Scotsman gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright.

'Oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Rodney hastily, afraid that he had hurt the poor Scotsman's feelings. 'I quite forgot you might not like Star Trek.'

'Not like Star Trek!' cried the Scotsman, in a shrill, passionate voice. 'Would YOU like Star Trek if you were me?'

'Well, perhaps not,' said Rodney in a soothing tone: 'don't be angry about it. We won't talk about this any more if you'd rather not.'

'We indeed!' cried the Scotsman, who was trembling. 'As if I would talk on such a subject!'

'I won't indeed!' said Rodney, in a great hurry to change the subject of conversation. 'Are you--are you fond--of--of Star Wars?' The Scotsman did not answer, so Rodney went on eagerly: 'What do you think of Attack of the Clones? --oh dear!' cried Rodney in a sorrowful tone, 'I'm afraid I've offended it again!' For the Scotsman was swimming away from him as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went.

So he called softly after it, 'Scotsman dear! Do come back again, and we won't talk about Star Trek or Star Wars either, if you don't like them!' When the Scotsman heard this, he turned round and swam slowly back to him: his face was quite pale (with passion, Rodney thought), and he said in a low trembling voice, 'Let us get to the shore, and then I'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is I hate sci-fi movies.'

It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the people that had fallen into it: there were an Athosian and a Genii, a Satedan and a Traveler, and several other curious creatures. Rodney led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore.